Wide Awake
by Blood Thirsty Angle
Summary: The first time Napoleon woke up, he saw darkness. The second time he woke up, the first thing he saw was the irritating smirk of Al Capone.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note: **So, hi everyone! I'm Blood Thirsty Angle(yes, I know that is spelt wrong), and I recently saw the third Night at the Museum movie. But not before re-watching the other two. I have the first one on DVD and the second one my brother scratched up, but after watching them, I thought up this little story. I thought it would be just a phase, but the plot bunny has wedged itself in my mind and won't leave until I post something. Sadly I have other stories that need attention and adding to the list isn't helping, but whatever. _

_Okay, enough rambling. So I remembered from the third movie the statues that were moving funny and Teddy telling Larry that they all acted like that when they first woke up. Then I thought that the exhibits from the Smithsonian were no exception. Thus, this little story from when Napoleon, or, "Little Nippy," was inside his crate was born. I might add onto this, depending on what reviewers say. So, if you want to comment, comment :)_

_Also, I am not a native French speaker. So if there is something wrong with the French that I got from Google translate, please let me know. A description of what the translations mean are at the bottom of this chapter._

_**Warnings: **None_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own the Night at the Museum trilogy. Let's just be glad that I don't._

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><p>"Bonjour? ll ya quelqu'un?"<p>

A pair of hands pressed up against the wooden lid of the crate, eyes blinking slowly to adjust to the darkness. He pressed against it unsurely, arms feeling like lead in the tiny space of the crate. As to why he was awake, he wasn't sure, but that wasn't on his mind right now. Getting out of this stupid crate was the most important thing!

"Merde!" he growled, continuing to push against the crate. The lid of this stupid crate had to be at least six inches thick. If his arms didn't feel so still and numb then he might have been able to knock it off, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

His leg twitched uncomfortably, as did the rest of his body. This feeling of being awake and alive didn't exactly feel right. And the stuffiness of the box wasn't exactly helping with that. He blinked quickly, trying to shove down the panic beginning to rise.

"Hello?" he tried, wondering if speaking English would help. "Is anyone out there?"

He was only met with silence.

Grumbling incoherent words in French, he banged against the lid loudly. "Hello?" he called again, only this time louder. "Would someone let me out? NOW!"

He inhaled sharply, his legs trying to reach out and kick the end of his box. This caused a spark of irritation to flare up. Whoever created him obviously decided to go along with the myth of him being short. He really wasn't that short! Who ever said that being five foot and seven inches was short was a complete moron.

He breathed in again, trying to calm down. Having a panic attack in this cursed box would not look good for himself or his troops, whom he could hear nearby speaking in dazed French. He crossed his arms in front of him, mind racing faster than ever to devise a plan of escape.

After all, nothing could stop Napoleon Bonaparte. Nothing, except for the rising sun.

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><p>He didn't know how long it had been since he'd been asleep since the previous night, but Napoleon couldn't bring himself to care. He could hear voices outside, English speaking voices unfortunately, but voices none the less. One voice had a slight lisp to it and he sounded Egyptian. Another one was distinctly Russian, sounding very proud. The last voice, however, sounded very strange. He had a feeling it was Italian, but not quite. There was something in his voice that sounded very different.<p>

"Now, gentlemen," the lisped one said. "I have asked you to come here to ask you something very important…"

"Da?" The Russian one said. "Get on with it."

"Yeah, my boys and I got things to do."

"As I was saying," the Egyptian sounded annoyed now. "Before I was so rudely interrupted-"

"HEY!"

An irritated sigh was released from the Egyptian man. "Oh now what?"

"Hey!" he slammed his hands against the crate, which surprisingly didn't feel so stiff tonight. "Laissez-moi sortir! Maintenant!"

Footsteps echoed as a pair of shoes stopped at his crate. "Wonder who this is," the Italian man muttered. "Name tag says Napoleon Bonaparte. Heh, a Frenchie."

Frenchie? Oh, that did it. "Laissez-moi sortir!" he pounded even harder against the crate, using his legs to kick up, which was a major accomplishment since last night. "Je ne peux essuyer ce sourire sur votre visage!"

"Sorry Frenchie; can't understand you. Nope."

"Let me out so I can wipe that smirk off your face!"

"Mr. Capone, would you please just let him out," The Egyptian called out. "I have heard of this man and he should be very useful to us."

"Eh, whatever you say."

His eyes widened as a scraping sound could be heard, the edges of the lid creaking apart as the entire lid was suddenly thrown off. He hissed softly, blinding light piercing his eyes that had been adjusted to the darkness for so long. He blinked his brown eyes several times to get a good focus. As the light began to settle, he stared up into the ceiling, still unsure of where he was.

And then, a hand was offered down to him.

"Here," he stared up to see the face of a monochromatic man, who was smirking unabashedly down at him. "Need some help?"

He took the hand, unsure of whether or not his legs would be sturdy enough. As he assumed, the second his legs touched the ground, he felt wobbly and off balance, the monochrome man giving him a slightly sympathetic look. "Don't fall down," he said with that strange accent of his. "It'd be embarrassing to watch."

"Why you!"

"Gentlemen," the Egyptian man clapped his hands, getting both their attention. "Are you two done? Because we still have business to attend to."

Napoleon raised an eyebrow, now intrigued. "What business? If it is something interesting, then I want to know!"

He felt a hand smack the back of his head lightly. "Dry up and you'll find out." the monochromatic man motioned for his men to open the rest of the boxes.

When most of Napoleon's soldiers were out and standing near him, the Egyptian man began to speak, taking short strides back and forth. "I am Kahmunrah. Half- God once removed on my mother's side. Rightful ruler of Egypt. Future ruler of, well, everything else. Now, I have lost some men. So I am in need of some new generals to join me in my little plan of conquering this world."

Kahmunrah turned to the Russian man, giving a smile. "Ivan the Terrible."

He then turned to him with the same expression. "Napoleon Bonaparte."

Lastly, he turned to the monochromatic men. "And young Al Capone."

"Some of the most despicable, most feared leaders in all of history. Gentlemen," the proud smile fell apart, a more childish one appearing. "Really, it's just fantastic to meet you all!"

He couldn't help the pride swell up in his chest at the excitement on the man's face. "Nice to meet you too," he commented along with the others.

"All I ask is your allegiance and in return, I offer you the world. Literally. Now, are there any questions?"

"Yeah, I got one. How come you're wearin' a dress?"

Kahmunrah paused, staring at the man in disbelief. "This is not a dress, it is a tunic. It was the height of fashion three thousand years ago, I assure you. Are there any other questions?"

Ivan spoke up. "Da. This, um, dress you're wearing. Do we have to wear one of these too?"

The tiniest of veins popped out on the Pharaoh's forehead. "Of course not! Were you not just listening? I just told Mr. Capone here that this is not a dress; it is in fact a tunic. Very big difference. Now are there any other questions?"

Napoleon raised his hand and the Pharaoh sighed in exasperation. "Are there any questions not about the dress…tunic."

He promptly lowered his hand.

Kahmunrah sighed, clapping his hands together in newfound energy. "Alright then, moonlight is wasting and the time is short-"

Out of all the things that could make him angry, he just had to say that. His Hand instantly went for his dagger, glaring harshly at the Pharaoh. "Short? Why do you look at me when you say short?"

"I, uh, I, sorry. Slipped out."

He put away his dagger, threatening the Pharaoh with a pointed finger. Kahmunrah only rolled his eyes, turning to the three of them again. "Now I would like to wrap up the old meet and greet by asking you, gentlemen, a question: are you with me?"

"Yeah, yeah sure."

"Oui."

"Da."

"Then bring Larry Daley of Daley Devices and the golden tablet of Ahkmunrah to me!"

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><p><strong>Okay, so I skipped over the Ivan the Awesome part, but I didn't feel like writing that all out. I typically hate copying word for word from the movie, but for a few parts I might have to. Please bear with me on that! I also read that Napoleon wasn't actually 5'2, but was actually 5'7. Short by today's standards, but back then was considered tall. Other that that, feel free to review and follow if you want. Luff luff and knuffles everyone! <strong>

**Translation of French words used:**

**Bonjour: I think it's pretty obvious that everyone knows what this word means, but for those who don't know: Hello**

**ll ya quelqu'un?: Is anyone there?**

**Merde: Dammit**

**Laissez-moi sortir- Let me out**

**Maintenant-Now**

**Je ne peux essuyer ce sourire sur votre visage: So I can wipe that smirk off your face**

**Oui: Yes**

**Alright then, so some of the slang that Capone used, and might use if this continues, can be found on The Internet Guide to Jazz Age Slang. **


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: **__Well, I have returned! Even if it's only been one day, I have brought a new chapter. So, I was browsing through Deviantart and I found this funny Thor and Loki comic, which inspired this chapter. You can find it at art/Thor-and-Loki-302214987 I guarantee if you are a Marvel fan, it will be most amusing._

_Now to address the reviewers! _

_AdminElrohir- Thanks for reviewing! This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but I decided to flesh it out into a story. Hope you stick with it!_

_**Warnings: **__None_

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Night at the Museum and never will. All characters respectively belong to themselves_

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><p>"Perhaps when we do take over the world, I can find a pair of shoes that make me taller."<p>

Napoleon grumbled to himself, staring accusingly down at the boots he was wearing. It wasn't as if these boots weren't comfy, but they didn't exactly help with his height. If anything, they made him feel shorter. He glanced around the room, hoping no one spotted him talking to himself about his height. Kahmunrah was busy sorting through his many objects, throwing random ones around the room. Ivan and his men had left to go find more objects to sort through and Capone and his gang of mobsters gambled amongst each other.

"Scommetto che è davvero più breve di cinque a due."

He felt his nose itch and his face wrinkled as he fought back a sneeze. He had heard of some suspicion that one would sneeze if someone was speaking about them, but he had never believed him. Yet glancing at the Italian American Mobsters, he wasn't quite sure. Still, he resumed his position of looking out for Mr. Daley.

"Nah, I bet he's exactly four feet and eight inches. I mean, look at those boots! They give him extra height!"

He felt his eye twitch. "Juste ignorer," he muttered to himself, trying to stuff down the growing irritation. "lls sont juste Américains naïfs."

He continued to look through his telescope, thinking himself looking rather noble while doing so, and did his best to ignore them.

Until they started bothering his men.

"Hey, hey you! Yeah, you with the big mustache. I got a question for ya."

He turned around slightly, eyes narrowing as the leader of the mob sauntered towards his men with his trademark smirk. The soldier he was addressing, a young man who had named himself Armand, looked at Capone warily. "Oui?" he asked.

Capone looked over to where Napoleon was standing, knowing full well that he could hear him. "You see, my boys and I were wondering about something. How tall is your boss?"

Armand glanced at his fellow soldiers. "Notre Empereur?"

"Yeah, that guy."

The Solider glanced nervously up at him, knowing full well that the subject about the emperor's height was a taboo subject. No one even dared to bring it up, but obviously Capone didn't know that. Or maybe he did and just wanted to cause a stir. "Uh, well," the soldier began, fidgeting along with the others. "He's…"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" Napoleon stuffed his telescope back in his coat pocket, storming over to where Capone was. "It is not about the height! It is about having a plan!"

"Whatever you say, small fry."

"_Small fry!"_

Capone crossed his arms, smirking down at him in an irritating way. "Yeah, Small fry. You see, everyone here has a nickname. I'm Al; Ivan's real name is Ivanovich, so Ivan. Kah is for Kahmunrah and you're Small Fry.

"How dare you! You stupide Américain!"

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

He was just about ready to tackle the gangster to the ground, but the sound of Ivan's voice saved the mobster from getting tackled. He carried a medium sized blue cooler with the name of Brandon on it, the contents inside a mystery, and set it down in the pile before retreating away to go get more items. Napoleon abandoned the fight, now curious to see what was in the cooler.

"I wonder what's in here," he muttered, unhooking the locks and gazing inside. "Oohh, drinks!"

He picked up a bottle, reading the label. He didn't know what Samuel Adam's was, but it looked like it was some sort of Alcoholic beverage, beer to be specific. Looking back inside, he saw eight bottles and smiled. That was enough for him and his men, and they had been doing such good work so far that they deserved a little relaxation. After all, he was a generous man. The Louisiana Purchase was proof of that! Even though he gave it away to fund his war, it still was pretty generous! Giving a soft smile, he switched the bottle to his left hand, bringing his right hand to open it.

"No!"

A hand smacked him on the head, nearly knocking his hat off in the process. He shouted as Capone took the beer from him, staring down at him with false sternness, the trademark smirk poking out. "Sorry Small fry, but this is a man's drink."

"WHAT? I will have you know that I am at least one hundred and thirty years older than you!"

Capone just laughed, digging through the container, passing a couple things of beer to his friends. At the very bottom, he pulled something out, grinned, and handed it to him. "Here you go. I'm sure someone of your height can handle this."

"A…CapriSun? YOU GAVE ME A CHILD'S BEVERAGE?"

Capone and his men laughed, ignoring the darkening face of Napoleon. He growled, throwing the child's beverage at the Italian man and cursed at him in French. Capone didn't look fazed in the slightest, looking rather amused through the whole thing. Eventually Ivan came back, wondering what exactly was going on. "Mr. Italian," he began in his heavily accented voice. "Why are you teasing Little Nippy?"

Napoleon froze, turning around slowly, his face an angry red. "What did you just call me?" he hissed, shocked at what just came out of the man's mouth. He pulled out his dagger, holding it to him. "lls sont juste Américains naïfs!"

"Chto?"

He sighed in irritation. "I dare you to repeat that!" he rephrased in English. "Maintenant!"

Ivan glanced at Capone, obviously not seeing what the problem was. "Mr. Italian was telling me about how everyone had nicknames except for you. I do not like Small fry, so I came up with Little Nippy."

Capone stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Little Nippy…yeah, I like the sound of that," he grinned, the two of them studying him carefully. "Little Nippy."

"Noon!"

The monochromatic man just shook his head. "Nope. If the name fits, then the name fits. Besides, with you being a high hat and all, it sums you up quite nicely."

Napoleon blinked once. "A high hat?"

"You know, a snob."

"You….you….cretín!"

"You really need to work on your English, you know that?"

"Argh!" With that, he marched away, ignoring the semi-amused stares he got from his soldiers and resumed his post at watching for the Night guard. However, his ears turned pink when he heard one of his troops mutter: "Hm, Little Nippy. I think it fits."

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><p><strong>And thus, the name Little Nippy was born. Yeah, it probably didn't happen like that, but this is fanfiction. Anyways, I have a list of translations at the bottom.<strong>

**"Scommetto che è davvero più breve di cinque a due" Italian for: I bet he's shorter than five foot two**

**"Juste Ignorer- French for: Just ignore them**

**"lls sont juste Américains naïfs"-French for: They're naïve Americans**

**"Notre Empereur"-French for: Our Emperor**

**"Stupide"-French for: Stupid**

**"lls sont juste Américains naïfs"-French for: I dare you to repeat that**

**"Maintenant"- French for: Now**

**"Chto"- Russian for: What?**

**"Cretin"- French for: Moron etc. Or in this case: Asshole**

**So there are all the translations. Whether they are correct or not, I don't know. I might come up with a new story soon, about a kid being stuck in the museum during the battle of the Smithsonian. Still working it out, but tell me what you think. More drabbles like this will be coming soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note: **I'm back! School started on Monday, but we got a Snowday today due to the crappy cold front that came through. This chapter is based on a suggestion I got from Every Wolf Has Its Howl. Capone's son Albert won't be in it, but he will be mentioned quite a bit. I hope that's okay! I wasn't sure how to write him or how to add him in since he didn't really play a huge role in history besides being Capone's son, but the idea did help a lot with this one shot. Thanks!_

_**Warnings:** None besides a little bit of angst_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the sandbox. I just jump the fence to play in it_

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><p>Ever since they'd been transferred to the Museum of Natural History in New York, Capone had managed to avoid confronting the Frenchman. After all that went down during the Battle of the Smithsonian, there was no need for them to be near each other. He and Ivan still kept in touch, but he had not said one thing to the Frenchman since they'd arrived in New York. And that was okay with him.<p>

What was not okay was the six French soldiers wandering aimlessly around the halls talking in French.

At first, he thought nothing of it. Until they started bumping into him and his men, ruining their poker games and interrupting their conversations. This had been going on for quite a while and he had a feeling it was because none of them could find Little Nippy.

Capone sighed in mild irritation. "Where's Nippy?" he asked, noting how they still looked rather lost and confused. "Where's your boss?" he rephrased.

The soldier nearest to him shook his head. "We don't know," he lamented. "We haven't seen him all night. And the sun rises in an hour."

"What if he's lost?" the one with the mustache, Armand if he remembered correctly, spoke. "You know how small he is?"

He had to smirk at that, finding their worried questions amusing. One of the younger looking soldier even looked like he was going to cry. "What if he's outside when the sun comes out?" he began in a rushed tone. "If he dies, then we will have failed in our job!"

They started speaking in rapid French, completely tuning out the Italian American Mobsters. Capone just shook his head, leaving the French soldiers to their mourning while he wandered down the hall. It wasn't as if Nippy was too hard to find; he was wearing a giant hat after all.

He wandered through the museum, nodding a greeting to the other exhibits as they muddled about. He was just about to give up when he spotted something odd. The light from the Gift shop was still on, though none of them went in their without Larry's permission. He lifted up the caged bar door, immediately seeing the French General.

Napoleon was surrounded by books, a few about himself and a couple others about the other displays. His eyes were heavy, though not because he was tired. They were heavy with sadness, which Capone silently admitted to himself that he didn't like. "Nippy," he began, watching as the General jumped. "What are you doing?"

Napoleon scowled. "Don't call me Nippy, idiot."

He ignored that last remark. "Nippy, you know you're men are looking for you. They're really starting to freak out and annoy everyone," he also ignored the angry look the Frenchman gave him. "And quite frankly, abandoning your friends is kind of rude."

Napoleon just sighed. "I needed a minute to myself. They didn't need to see me looking anxious," he said with less anger. A moment of silence passed between them before he spoke again. "I envy you."

"What?"

"You had a son."

He had to roll his eyes a little at that. "Well you had one too," he shot back. "And if I'm not mistaken, you had more than one."

Napoleon nodded. "But I didn't acknowledge them all," he began. "I had one boy with Marie and I never got to watch him grow up. He was four when I was exiled; too young to remember me. He probably grew up resenting the fact that I was never around."

Capone just stared at him, a little surprised to hear that confession out of him. He knew that the Emperor had been exiled for the remainder of his life, but had never really given much thought about it. Now that he did, he realized it must have been extremely lonely. Something he could relate to. "Alcatraz wasn't exactly a walk in the park for me," he began. "I didn't get to see my son, Albert, for many years. By the time I was released, he probably didn't even recognize me because I was so very sick. The last year of my life, I had the mental capacity of a twelve year old."

"But you still got to see Albert grow up. You didn't go to prison still he was fourteen."

"That's not the point. I missed birthdays, holidays, his Graduation. The only thing I didn't miss was his wedding to Diana Ruth Casey in 1941. He had four daughters, you know," he smiled though it soon fell short. "And I didn't get to spend any time with them either. Albert was embarrassed by me, so it was only natural he became a law abiding citizen. Point is, I didn't get to him a lot during his adolescent years, when boys really need their fathers."

Napoleon nodded. "You speak as if you knew him."

"What?"

The French man only rolled his eyes. "We're not real, you know. Monsieur Daley doesn't like to bring it up or talk about it, but I know we're not real. _We_ never did any of the any of the things are namesakes did."

Bringing up a monochromatic hand, he cuffed the back of the Frenchman's head. His hat tumbled to the floor, rousing upset French words from the Emperor. Capone only looked at him without feeling sorry for hitting him. "If we can move, talk and breathe, then I say we're as real as any other human begin. Sure we turn to wax during the day, but at night we're still alive. To me, you're still Napoleon Bonaparte."

"Hm."

"You have his memories of who his was, and I have memories of who I was, so I say we're still who we are. And that's not going to change, Nippy."

Napoleon only shot him a half-hearted glare, standing up out of his pile of books. "I suppose I should go see my men."

"You probably should. They think you're lost since you're so small."

"WHAT?!"

Napoleon then stormed out of the gift shop, past all the exhibits giving him weird looks as he shouted in French for his soldiers. Capone only smiled in amusement. Maybe now things could get back to normal, at least, for now.

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><p><strong>Okay, this one wasn't very long, but that's okay. If you guys have suggestions or ideas for future chapters, then feel free to share. It can be about anything, and I mean anything as long as it involves these two characters. I don't know if I'll involve romantic OCs in this but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. This is kind of more of a drabble fic, so I will update as often as I can. Through a child's eyes will be updated soon as well. Ta-ta for now!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note: **Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter. You guys rock! So since the last chapter was kind of angsty, I did one that had a little humor. I tried guys! Not sure if I succeeded or not, but I tried. Let me know what you think! And if you want to suggest something than feel free. I decided not to use OCs except for the one that I created in another story. So, no romantic OCs please._

_**Warnings: **None_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Night at the Museum and never will._

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><p>Napoleon was in a mood. Not a good mood, a bad mood.<p>

The last time he'd been in a bad mood was a few weeks ago when that idiot night guard (a.k.a Larry) gave him a copy of Les Miserables. However tonight, he was not angry about idiotic books. No, tonight, someone had stolen his hat.

He observed his hatless head in the mirror, almost ready to start screaming at the next person he saw. He had no idea as to whom, or why, anyone would want to steal his hat, but he had to get to the bottom of it. With his head held high, he strode through the halls of the Museum of Natural History, ignoring the looks of confusion and amusement from the other displays.

The first person he sought out was Capone. The monochromatic man wasn't especially hard to find, considering he was usually in the same place with his fellow gang members, so the second he saw him, he began seething. "Give it back! Maintenant!"

Capone only set down his cards from the game he was playing. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there short stack, what's the rush? Wait, there's something different about you?" he narrowed his eyes, feigning to be confused. "Where's your hat?"

"THAT'S WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR!"

Capone only shook his head, eyes returning to his game. "'Fraid I haven't seen it, Nippy," he ignored the Frenchman's angry red face. "And I didn't take it either. Why would I take it if I have no use for it?"

He stared at the man incredulously. "Last week you took my dagger and used it to pin one of my soldier's to the wall!"

"Well he deserved. The sap wasn't leaving me and my boys alone."

Napoleon sighed, dismayed that he would now have to search all over the Museum. He stormed out of the room, ignoring the chuckles from the mobsters and went over to Ivan's area. The Russian Tsar appeared to be drinking tea out of a fancy porcelain cup which Larry probably didn't know he was using and drank it like some Wiseman. "What can I do for you, Little Nippy?" he asked calmly.

"It's Napoleon, not Nippy!" he ground out, knowing deep inside the name would never drop. "I have a question to ask you."

"If it is about your hat, I have not seen it," the Tsar took another sip of tea, his pinky extended out like the damn British. "But you look good without it on. It makes you look younger."

"I need my hat!" he cried, wanting to kick the man. "It makes me taller!"

"Not really."

"What?"

Ivan shrugged. "If anything it makes your head look wider," the Russian smiled a little. "And Mr. Italian said it made you look smaller."

That asshole. Napoleon just sighed in irritation, knowing he would get nowhere with this man. "Merci pour votre temps," he said, knowing the man did not know what he just said. He turned to his soldier, noting how they looked rather bored. "Venez! Nous attendons d'aillerus!"

His soldiers only sighed, but stood to attention none the less. He led them out of the room and into where Lewis and Clarke were, the two of them spying on the world outside the Museum, gazing longingly at Central Park. "One day, Lewis," Clarke began. "One day Larry will let us venture outside."

"Yes, _one _day."

Napoleon cleared his throat, getting their attention. He gave the most polite smile he could muster. "Excuse me, Messieurs," he began. "But have you seen my hat?"

Clarke shook his head. "No," he answered truthfully. "But you should ask the little monkey. He has a habit of taking things that don't belong to him."

"Like Larry's keys!" Lewis quipped in.

"And his flashlight."

"And our map."

"What?"

Lewis looked down at his satchel, frowning. "Oh man, not again!"

Napoleon only watched the two men argue, both of them now livid. He sighed, motioning for his men to follow him through the museum. He doubted that Rexy had it; for what would a giant t-rex need with a hat? The Puritans that roamed the halls of the museum definitely wouldn't have taken it either. He didn't even think of asking the miniatures because there was no way they would be able to take his hat. He didn't even bother to ask Attila and his men because he knew he would get an answer in Hun.

When he eventually found Dexter, he offered the creature the sweetest smile he had ever conceived. "Ah, mon cher ami," he almost wanted to wretch from how sweet he sounded. "I have a little problem. You see, I can't seem to find my hat."

Dexter gave a little cooing noise, standing up a little taller, tilting his head as if he knew something. Napoleon took this as a good sign. "Do you know where my hat is?" he asked. "If you do, I would like to know where it is."

Dexter only screeched again, like he was saying yes. Napoleon grinned. "Do you have it? Because if you do, I would most certainly like it back, se il vous plaît."

The only thing he received was a slap in the face. That, for him, was the final straw.

"You little!" he snarled, wrapping his hands around the evil monkey. "GIVE ME MY HAT!"

"NAPOLEON!"

Dexter gave a little cry of joy, easily sliding out of his hands and onto Teddy's shoulder. The President glared at him, not at all pleased. "Were you going to choke him?" he inquired sharply. "Were you?"

Napoleon was at a loss for words. "He took my hat!" he sputtered. "And he slapped me!"

"Nonsense! You're beginning to sound like Laurence!" he turned to Dexter, smiling kindly. "My good friend, do you have his hat?"

Dexter shook his head before leaping onto Sacagawea's shoulder. The Native woman petted him gently, turning to him with wise eyes. "Mr. Bonaparte," she began calmly, dark eyes glimmering in the candle light. "Perhaps you left it at your exhibit set?"

"I've looked there," he moaned. "And I still cannot find it. I woke up with it on and then something knocked me out!"

He received another slap in the face from the President. "Pull yourself together!" Teddy lectured sternly. "The sun will rise soon and I do not wish for Laurence to get in trouble for an exhibit not being together."

He nodded, marching away from the three exhibits and grumbled more things in incoherent French. He went back to his exhibit, telling the soldiers to leave him alone so he could take out his frustrations without them seeing. He sat down, letting the cold wall relax his flushed body. He could feel tiredness tug at him and he closed his eyes, telling himself not to fall asleep.

Needless to say, he fell asleep.

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><p>By the time Al Capone walked into the French exhibit room, it was fifteen minutes till sunrise. Most exhibits were making their way to their stations, but not him. He had some important business to take care of.<p>

"Hey Nippy," he called out. "Nippy, where are you?"

He patted his suit, noticing a fuzz ball had gathered on the material. He brushed it off, still looking for the French General. "Nippy," he called out again. "Nippy!"

He spotted the General against the wall, head leaning against the pillar nearby. He gave a light snore, chest heaving up and down evenly as he slept. Capone had to crack a smile at that, wishing he had a camera to catch this. "I found this," he began, placing the hat on his lap. "Turns out the miniatures had it. How they knocked you out, I have no idea. Or better yet, why they wanted your hat, I have no idea."

He gave the General a quick pat on the face, waltzing out of the room quickly as he heard the French soldiers coming back.

* * *

><p>"Général!"<p>

Napoleon jumped, feeling one of his soldier's pat him on the shoulder, gently shaking him. He quickly stood up, the sound of something dropping to the floor echoing in his ear. Looking down, he grinned triumphantly as his hat lay precariously on the ground.

"Mon chapeau!" he exclaimed, holding the object high up. "Mon doux, beau chapeau!"

He kissed his hat once, placing the object on his head. "Men," he began in a proud tone. "You have done your Emperor well. For that, you get the whole rest of the week to yourselves."

"But we-" one soldier began, only to get elbowed in the stomach by another.

They assumed position at their stations, the sun rising only a minute later. As people walked into the museum that day, many people noticed the abnormally proud look on Napoleon's face.

And the extremely amused one on Al Capone's.

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><p><strong>Let me know what you think guys! Blood Thirsty Angle is off to bed! Ugh, I don't want to go to school tomorrow :(<strong>

**On a side note: Why I made Nippy get mad over Les Miserables might be explained in another oneshot, but for now, let's just say Larry thought all French people liked the book.**

**Translations used:**

**Maintenant- French for now**

**Merci pour votre temps- French for Thank you for your time**

**Venez! Nous attendons d'aillerus-French for come! we look elsewhere**

**Messieur- French for sirs**

**Mon cher ami- French for my dear friend**

**Se il vous plait- French for please**

**Mon chapeau- French for my hat**

**Mon doux, beau chapeau- French for my dear, sweet hat**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's note:**__ Thanks for the reviews you guys! It kind of saddens me that there aren't a whole lot of reviews for this story, but for all the reviews I have, I'm so grateful for your reactions. You guys are awesome and I just want you to know that! And as a reminder, I am taking chapter requests, so if you have an idea for a chapter, feel free to share._

_Now, to thank the reviewers!_

_Every Wolf Has It's Howl- Thanks for the idea in chapter three! I'm really happy with how that chapter turned out!_

_AdminElrohir- I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I hope to see more of your reviews in the future!_

_Guest 1 (Don't know if you're the same person as Guest 2)- Thank you for reviewing! I'm happy you're enjoying the story! There will only be a few OCs, but none of them will be romantically involved with Capone or Napoleon._

_Guest 2- Thanks for the review! I tried to keep the characters in character, though I will admit it's kind of a challenge but it is one that I enjoy doing. I think a lot of people could upload stories with just the movie characters and not ones with OCs, but I digress. I hope you stick with the story!_

_RedRosing- I'm so glad you're enjoying this because I am too :3 Thank you very much for reviewing!_

_Mybffisanalaca- I will eventually come up with a more sound reason as to why Napoleon hates Les Miserables and maybe I'll do one where Capone finds his hat. I'm glad you're enjoying this and updates will be coming!_

_**Warnings: **__None_

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Night at the Museum. All rights go to Shawn Levy and everyone else who created it._

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><p>To say Napoleon was a little bit of a perfectionist would be a lie. He was a huge perfectionist. Everything had to be done to the best of efforts, only doing priority tasks first and the less taxing ones later. While most exhibits wondered how his own soldiers could put up with him, they would only shrug and say that if they were in their shoes, they would get used to it.<p>

Everything with him had certain flair to it, and when that flair was disturbed, things could get, well, interesting. Like right now, for example. He had been walking through the halls, looking for one of his soldier's who was missing, and found him holding hands with one of the Puritan girls.

This in itself was a surprise; seeing as how his soldiers were with him most of the time. He wasn't necessarily angry at the soldier, but annoyed with the fact that he hadn't bothered to tell him that he was seeing someone. If there was romance going around, he wanted to know about it!

"How could you not tell me?" he complained, noting the soldier's face turning red. "I thought you trusted me!"

The soldier shook his hands, holding his hands up in a surrender sign. "No, no, Empereur," he flushed even harder. "I trust you very much!"

"Quand at-il commence?" he asked the girl but only received a confused look. He sighed, grumbling inward to himself that everyone should speak French. "When did you two start seeing each other?"

The girl only shook her head. "A few months ago," she said in a gentle voice. "Alain offered to walk me back to my display and we've begun seeing each other ever since."

"What's your name?"

"Mary Williams, sir."

Napoleon smiled at her, impressed that she knew her manners. Just the other day he had encountered some very rude young ladies during the Museum's night tours. "You may continue seeing, Mademoiselle Marie, but I want to know every single romantic detail you have!"

Alain nodded curtly, face still pink. "Oui, monsieur!"

He walked away at that point, giddy with the fact that romance was blooming in the air. Most people and exhibits would probably find it odd that he was happy over the integrity of romance, but he would only shrug it off, saying that all French people do. Whether or not that was true, he didn't really care. He loved romance and was not ashamed to admit it. If the museum was playing a romantic film, he would be there, tearing up at every single heartbreaking moment.

Although the last time a romantic movie played, Jedidiah had insisted on throwing popcorn at the screen, so he ordered his men to escort the cowboy out. No one was going to ruin The Notebook while he was in the room!

"You sure do act like a dame, you know that?"

He whirled around, glaring intently up at Capone. "I do not!" he protested. "I am very much a man, I assure you."

"Yes, because most men love romance," the American-Italian mobster crossed his arms. "Are you sure you secretly aren't a girl?"

His face flushed red at the merest suggestion of that comment. "All us French love amour!" he was practically standing chest to chest with the monochrome man. "And why would you say something so stupide?"

"I'm just saying that it takes a shot out of your manliness," the man smirked down at him. "I could tell everyone about your secret stash of 50 Shades of Grey novels."

"You…how do you know about that?"

"I've seen you read them, obviously."

He narrowed his eyes threateningly. "You wouldn't dare," he snarled. "If my men found out…"

"Relax, I won't tell 'em," the man grinned. "Yet."

"Yet?"

He shrugged. "If you don't do anything to make me mad, of course. And to make things even more interesting, I can tell everyone that Jaws scared the living daylights out of you!"

He threw his hands up in the air, almost ready to throw a punch at the gangster. "Why are you doing this to me?" he cried, earning confused looks from the Huns nearby. "Must you insist on acting like an imbecile?"

Capone rolled his eyes. "Don't get your knickers in a twist," his smirk grew even wider. "French Toast."

"…What did you just call me?"

"French. Toast. What are you going to do about it?"

The next ten minutes resulted in the two of them tangled up on the floor fighting like cats and dogs, the Huns cheering and placing bets on who would win. That was, until Larry showed up and grounded all of them to their exhibit displays.

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><p>When Alain and Mary decided to exchange vows, the first person they went to was him. Napoleon had been more than happy to help organize the event. Mary wanted things to be simple, nothing to elaborate, so he unfortunately had to do what she wanted. Everyone in the Museum was excited for the first ever wedding that was about to take place, but none were as excited as he was.<p>

The couple couldn't have rings, for that would look odd on their displays, but Larry did bring in two Ring-pops to make up for that. The event itself was quite nice, Mary wore a simple white dress with a veil placed in her hair and Alain took his hat off for the occasion. Napoleon stood near him, looking as tall and proud as he usually looked. Metaphorically speaking, anyway.

Celebration was held afterwards, with Mary promising him to learn French so that she could better understand him when he blessed her. As the couple danced for the first time, he felt Capone nudge him in the shoulder. "I'm surprised," Capone began, looking mystified. "Since she is technically a Brit, why are you letting him marry her?"

"Because she views herself as more American than British," he reasoned. "And because her people left Britain."

"Is that all?"

"And because I'm sure Alain would still marry her even if I said no," he smiled proudly. "We French are proud like that."

Capone just shook his head. "If you say so," he passed him a drink. "Thirsty?"

"Merci," he replied, taking the beverage, believing it to be wine. When he realized it wasn't, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Qu'est-ce que c'est? Is this…Fruit Punch?"

Capone laughed, tilting his head back as if this were the most funniest thing in the world. "Yes," he grinned wolfishly. "Alcohol _is _a man's drink, after all."

"YOU!"

"I'm just pulling your leg," he handed him another glass, this time filled with actual wine. "Here you go."

He glared irritably at the Italian, taking a long sip before setting it down. "Just because I am short does not mean that I am a child!"

"Whatever, Nippy."

He stood up, standing tall as he addressed the Italian with open arms. "Quit calling me that!" he exclaimed, waving his arms a little. "My name is Napoleon! Say it with me: Na-po-leon!"

"Uh, Nippy?" Capone started, nodding to something that had fallen in his arms while he was ranting. "You might want to look down."

He looked down, flushing pink as Mary's bouquet had landed into his arms. He almost wanted to shrink as some of the exhibit females glared murderously at him, all of them apparently wanting to catch it. Capone had stood up by that point, chuckling quietly.

"Looks like you're next," he laughed, patting his shoulder as he walked past. "Wonder who it'll be."

His face only flushed darker, handing it to the nearest girl and quickly escaped the scene. However, handing the bouquet to the girl didn't really solve his problem. For the rest of the evening, he received death glares from the girls.

Maybe weddings and romance wasn't such a great thing after all…

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><p><strong>I just got a new copy of the second movie and while watching it, Napoleon mentioned that all French people loved romance. We all know that is not true, but I wanted to play off it a little. Anyway, review please! I will be updating my other story soon so if you want, go check it out!<strong>

**Translations:**

**Mademoiselle- French for Miss**

**Monsieur- French for Sir**

**Oui- French for yes**

**Amour- French for love**

**Merci- French for Thank you**

**Qu'est-ce que c'est- French for What is this?**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's note:**__ This is where Capone finds Nippy's hat. I hope you enjoy! If you have ideas for future chapters, you can always share. For OCs, they cannot be romantic. I'm off to bed, so peace out!_

_**Warnings: **__None_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Night at the Museum and never will_

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><p>"Qù est-il? Qui l'a pris?"<p>

Capone raised his eyes to the ceiling, eyes glancing towards the clock nearby. He chuckled a little to himself, silently noting the time. This was a new record for Nippy, for usually the man was screaming at someone at a much earlier hour. It had been only an hour since sundown and the museum had been peaceful till that point.

Currently, he was playing cards with his boys when the doors to his exhibit opened. He looked up, not at all surprised when Nippy and his troops walked in, the small Frenchman looking proud, even with being short. When Nippy spotted him, he stormed over, eyes burning with rage. "Give it back!" he seethed, practically jumping. "Maintenant!"

He set his cards down, tempted to roll his eyes. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there short stack, what's the rush? Wait, there's something different about you?" he narrowed his eyes, now noticing that something was off. "Where's your hat?"

"THAT'S WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR!"

He shook his head, eyes returning to his game. "'Fraid I haven't seen it, Nippy," he tried hard not to smirk at Nippy's angry red face. "And I didn't take it either. Why would I take it if I have no use for it?"

Nippy just began to stare at him incredulously. "Last week you took my dagger and used it to pin one of my soldier's to the wall."

"Well he deserved it. The sap wasn't leaving me and my boys alone."

Nippy only let out a loud sigh, turning to his men and shouted at them in French. They followed him out, looking rather annoyed with having to find their leader's hat. The second they were gone, one his men laughed, placing one card in the middle of the pile. "He's such a high hat," he chortled. "He's never going to find his hat."

The man next to that man laughed. "I bet you Rob that his hat was taken by some kids earlier today. What says you, Boss?"

Capone just waved them off, thinking hard for a few minutes. While he did enjoy making Nippy get flustered and angry, he didn't exactly approve of someone else doing his job. He didn't mind it if Ivan would pull a prank every now and then, but no one could pick fun at his Nippy but him. Blinking back into reality, he glanced at the man who asked his a question. "I bet you fifty dollars, Bud."

"You're on!"

He strolled out of the exhibit room, completely unaware of the odd gazes his men gave him. He smirked as he walked through the halls, full of pride as he sauntered through the museum in his snazzy suit. He tipped his hat politely to the Peruvian women walking around with their alpacas and to the three Puritan girls that had gathered near the water fountain. The smirk on his face grew even wider at the thought of one of the girls, knowing that she was seeing one of Napoleon's troops.

When he found the person he was looking for, he called out. "Hey, Teddy!" he quickly strode over to the President, giving Sacagawea a polite nod. "I'm here on business, so I'll get to the point. Have you seen Nippy's hat?"

Teddy blinked. "Who?"

"You mean Napoleon?" the Native woman asked gently, arm still linked with her lover's. "We saw him not too long ago looking for his…hat, I believe?"

"That's right," Teddy smiled. "He seems to be quite obsessed over it."

"Yeah, well, if you know anything about it, tell me," he crossed his arms. "Because I'm sure everyone is going to be tired of him bothering them about his hat. It's his baby, you know."

Sacagawea only tilted her head, observing him with dark calming eyes. "Is it that you don't want everyone to get annoyed? Or is it that you don't want to see him upset?"

He scoffed at her, though a small part of him was unnerved at how clam she looked. He mentally shivered, reminding himself to not ever get on her bad side. "Course not," he replied. "I just like being the one to make him mad. It's all in good fun."

"I see," was her only reply. "If we do see anything, we'll let you know."

He walked away from them, spine tingling as he felt their knowing smirks on his back. While strolling through the halls, he mentally picked members of the museum who could have taken the damn thing. First on the list to cross off were Larry and Nick, for they didn't seem to be the type of people who would go around and do that. Ahkmenrah for sure; he would have no reason to. Questioning the Huns would get him nowhere, along with Columbus. The Easter Island statue was a no for sure. Technically, the other half of the exhibits didn't even know Nippy very well, so why would they want to steal his hat?

Swiftly avoiding Custer, who was leading the Civil war puppets around (and brushing his hair), he stepped into the hall of African mammals. Quickly hiding behind a pillar, he watched the scene before him as Nippy was slapped in the face by Dexter. He literally had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

"Poor fella," he mumbled under his breath, almost feeling sorry. "It's almost dawn and he still can't find his hat."

He abandoned the scene, now strolling calmly through the hallway. He didn't know who else would have the hat. There was no one else he could think of.

Until he saw a tall looking hat move across the marble floors.

Grinning, he picked the light material up; satisfied that it was indeed Nippy's hat. Two figures popped up in between the folds, appearing almost miffed. "What'd you do that for?" the blonde cowboy, Jedidiah, complained. "You ruined our fun!"

"Yeah!" the Roman General, Octavius, piped in. "You ruined the plan!"

"Plan?" he inquired, not sure if he really wanted to know.

"Yeah," Jed crossed his arms, glaring at him defiantly. "We wanted to fly."

"Fly?"

"Are you deaf, or is there cotton stuck in your ear?" the cowboy gripped. "We wanted to know if we could navigate this hat down to the main floor by throwing it off the ledge."

"It didn't work, though," Octavius almost looked sad. "The hat is too heavy so it just sank. We were going to make improvements by cutting it up and modifying it a little."

He rolled his eyes, picking up the two men with both hands. "Yeah, well, I really doubt the owner of the hat would appreciate it being torn up."

"We were only going to tear it up a little!" Jed cried out. "Honest to god we were!"

"Uh-huh, sure," he dropped the two of them off at their dioramas, swiftly sauntering to where Nippy's exhibit was. Most displays were heading to their stands by now, but he had to take care of business. "Hey Nippy," he called out. "Nippy, where are you?"

He patted his suit, noticing a fuzz ball had gathered on the material. He brushed it off, still looking for the French General. "Nippy?" he called out again. "Nippy!"

He spotted the general against the wall, head leaning on the pillar nearby. He gave a light snore, chest heaving up and down evenly as he slept. He had to crack a smile at that, wishing he had a camera to catch this moment. "I found this," he began, placing the hat on his lap. "Turns out the miniatures had it. How they knocked you out, I have no idea. Or why they even wanted it, I'm not quite sure, but oh well."

He gave the general a quick pat on the face, waltzing out of the room quickly as he heard the French soldiers coming back. A smirk grew on his face as he could hear Nippy's joyful cries sounding from the other room. By the time he got back to his display set, he turned to the man who had challenged him.

"You owe me fifty bucks."

"Damnit!"

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><p><strong>And thus, the hat was found! XD Don't forget to review and follow!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's note:** So this chapter is a request by Lucy-not-Lucifer. I thought this was a really great idea, considering that Nippy and Capone just have childish squabbles most of the time. So a more serious fight sounded awesome! I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**Warnings:** None_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own this fandom and never will._

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><p>Sometimes Larry really hated his life.<p>

No, really, he sometimes hated it. Like right now, for instance as he watched the two new exhibits battle it out on the floor. He cursed McPhee inwardly, knowing full well that the curator was extremely pleased with the fact that he'd added new exhibits.

Now he wasn't exactly thrilled when he learned that the man had ordered a few new exhibits from the Smithsonian. AKA: Napoleon Bonaparte, Ivan the Terrible and Al Capone. While he was glad that Kahmunrah would definitely not come back, he was not happy about the new exhibits and neither were the others apparently. From what he'd heard from Octavius, Jed still had problems with being in enclosed spaces.

"Why are they even fighting?" he asked Sacagawea, who was observing the two men with dark eyes. "Do they think they're in the Smithsonian still?"

"I do not know," she answered simply. "But I believe we should let them get it out of their systems."

"If you say so," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And if anything gets broken, I'll be the one who gets blamed."

* * *

><p>Napoleon had no idea as to why he was suddenly awake, but he knew for certain that he was angry. Angry at that stupid Capone and his stupid Italian thugs. When he first awoke at the Museum of Natural History, he was apparently still in a wrestling match with the man and was greeted with a punch to the face. Now it was the second night and he was face to face with the mobster.<p>

"Well, well, well," Capone sneered. "Looks like French Toast here didn't learn his lesson about messing with us. Do you really want another punch to the face, you stupid sap?"

Napoleon bristled. "And do you want me to tear your eyes out, cretín? Because I have a million ideas on how to do it."

Capone snickered, along with the rest of his men. "Like you could even lift a finger on me," he boasted with arrogance. "Now, why don't you and your ladies run along and go have your tea party so the real men can have fun."

"That's funny coming from a man whose gun doesn't even work," he snarled. "At least I have a knife that can actually hurt someone! And a mind that could easily outwit yours! Your weapons were made for children!"

His men smirked at the annoyed twitch that Capone gave off. "Yeah, well at least people take me seriously," they were now circling each other, their men watching intently and the other exhibits now beginning to notice. "The only reason you're famous is because you're short."

"I AM NOT SHORT! I WAS FIVE FOOT SEVEN!" he seethed. "The damn British made that up."

"Uh-huh," Capone nodded, obviously not convinced. "But what exactly are you trying to prove here? You don't honestly believe that you can beat me in a fight, do you?"

"Brains over brawn," the Frenchman said condescendingly. "You might have a better build, but I could easily devise a plan that could outsmart you."

"Jesus, all you talk about is being smart," Capone shrugged off his coat, one of his lackeys catching it. "No wonder your first wife didn't love you enough."

Throughout the hall, there was dead silence. The anger in Napoleon's eyes darkened dangerously, his hands curling into fists. "What did you just say?" he hissed. "I dare you to repeat that."

Capone only smiled mockingly. "I may have dropped out after eighth grade, but I did do some studying in school. Your first wife obviously didn't love you enough, so she went around sleeping with other men."

"Like you were a saint!" he spat. "You slept with other women as well! And how did that turn out for you?"

Capone's eye twitched. "So I got syphilis, so what? At least I stayed faithful to my wife for the most part. You? Well I'm pretty sure you had tons of mistresses!"

"Imbecile!"

"Is that the best you've got? Not so great at come backs, are you? It's no wonder that they exiled you, seeing as how you failed everyone around you. You're probably one of the biggest failures I've ever seen."

That was it. Napoleon screeched, tackling the thug with a force that would have made any linebacker applaud. His hands wrapped around the monochromatic man's throat, legs kicking him the whole time. Capone struggled to pry him off, eventually falling over on top of him to land a punch into his nose. Cheers from all over the museum erupted as the two broke away, Napoleon taking that opportunity to give him a swift upper cut to his jaw.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Sacagawea shaking her head at them sadly, Larry next to her looking rather tired. Capone noted his distracting, punching him hard in the stomach to the point where he doubled over in pain. He did manage to strike Capone in his left eye, causing swelling to start to occur. His jaw hurt and his nose was throbbing, but he continued to fight on. If he lost, then Capone would be correct; he would be a failure.

"Give up yet?" Capone wiped some blood from his lip.

"No!" he shrieked, grabbing his dagger from his sheath.

He was about to use his dagger on the Italian, but before he could do so, the Native woman stepped in between them with a look that reminded both of them of their mothers. "Stop this," she commanded. "This ends. Now."

"Out of the way, lady," Capone laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not done until this asshole learns his lesson."

"And I say the fighting is done," she said evenly, leaving no room for more discussion. "I thought that it would just be a small fight between two men, but obviously you intended for more," she gave Napoleon a stern glare. "So we are going to sit and cool off."

Capone shook his head. "I'm not going to sit down."

She whirled around, glaring at him while he towered over her with a good several inches. "Now," she ordered, glaring even harder. "And that wasn't a request."

Capone just stared down at her from several seconds before bowing his head, turning his face away defiantly. "Fine," he grumbled, marching over to where Napoleon was sitting. "Scary woman," he muttered under his breath.

Sacagawea sat in between them with a relaxed face, hands crossed in her lap. "Why did this all start?" she asked. "What gave you the reason to fight?"

"I don't know," Napoleon grumbled. "We were fighting in the Smithsonian and I suppose we never came to an agreement on who won."

"What he said," Capone muttered in agreement. "Though it was obvious that I was going to win."

Sacagawea ignored him. "But why the two of you?" she asked. "Ivan was a part of your fight as well. So why not include him as well?"

They both looked at each other, surprised that she would ask a question like that. Capone spoke first, clearing his throat. "I don't know," he answered. "I guess we just bickered the most and egged each other on more."

She nodded slowly. "I see," she began steadily. "Perhaps it means that you are jealous of one another," she watched in amusement as they sputtered in disbelief. "You both have qualities that the other admires. Napoleon had a more rigid, former manner while you, Capone, are more laid back. Though you really aren't that different. You both cared about your people and wanted what was best for them, right?"

They both nodded, thinking over her words for a little bit. She smiled, standing up to go meet Teddy. "If you get in another fight like that, I'll have Larry send you back to the Smithsonian," they both gave her horrified looks while she just nodded. "Don't let something like that happen again, alright?"

She and Teddy walked away arm in arm, leaving the two of them sitting on the stairs awkwardly. Napoleon glanced at Capone uneasily, glaring down at his shoes before speaking. "I am sorry," he said grumpily. "That I blackened your eye."

Capone only smirked, most of the previous anger now draining away. "I'm sorry for your nose," he replied. "And your for your jaw," he paused again, looking at the floor. "And for bringing up your wife. That wasn't your fault either. And I don't really think you're a failure."

Napoleon nodded. "I apologize for mocking the way that you died; it was not honorable. And for making fun of your weapons. It's not your fault that they don't work."

They both sat in silence for a while, none of them quite knowing what to say. That was until Capone picked up his hat and plopped it back on his head, ignoring Napoleon's surprised yelp. "I accidentally knocked this off," he said as Napoleon adjusted his prized object. "What is it with you and that hat anyway?"

"It makes me taller."

"You can't be serious."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Capone let out a laugh at the dead serious look on his face, all traces of tenseness fading away. "Whatever you say, Nippy."

"Don't call me that!"

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><p><strong>Review please! If you have any ideas for future chapters then I am more than happy to do them! <strong>


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's note:**__ I know it's only been one day since I updated, but I could not get this idea out of my head. I won't spoil it, but I knew I had to write it down before it escaped my mind. I hope you enjoy the latest installment! It's rather short, but it didn't really need to be very long._

_**Warnings:**__ None_

_**Disclaimer: **__All rights go to Shawn Levy. I only own the story and a plump cat sitting on my bed._

* * *

><p>"I want to watch Jaws! Can we Gigantor?"<p>

Napoleon watched from his spot in his arm chair, his soldiers standing close nearby, observing the scene with concealed amusement. Jed had hopped up onto Larry's shoulder, his eyes wide and hopeful. "The last movie we watched was so boring that even a rattlesnake would have cuddled up to a mongoose."

Larry frowned, trying to figure out how that last bit made any sense, but set the miniature cowboy next to Octavius who was nodding enthusiastically at the idea. Eventually Larry sighed, holding a copy of the DVD out. "Alright," he said in defeat, though a smile was playing on his face. "But we're not watching the sequels, okay?"

"No problemo, Gigantor!"

He didn't even notice Capone take a seat next to him, resting his gun in his lap. "There's a lot of blood in this film, Nippy," the gangster teased, smirking all the while. "Sure you can handle that?"

"Please," he scoffed. "I've been in many battles; seen body parts. I think I can handle a man-eating shark. And don't call me Nippy!"

Capone laughed, grabbing some popcorn from the Huns and popping some in his mouth. "I bet you won't be able to sit through it."

"I can very well so!"

Capone just shook his head. "Then let's make this movie night interesting. If you get scared enough that it's incredibly noticeable to everyone, you owe me a favor. If not, then I owe you. How about it?"

He nodded, though a nagging voice inside of his head told him that he'd never been good at gambling. "Deal," he said, pride lacing his tone. "May the best man win."

"We'll see, French Fry."

He just glared that the mobster sourly before popping some gum in his mouth. Nicky Daley had shown it to him two weeks ago and since then, he couldn't get enough of it. So far, watermelon was his favorite at the moment and he reveled in the fruity taste in his mouth. He chewed on his gum absentmindedly for the first several minutes of the movie, blowing little bubbles here and there. He was about to blow a really big when Capone reached over to pop it. He managed to swat the monochromatic hand away before the man could do so. The last thing he needed was the sticky pink candy to be all over his face.

However, towards the last bit of the movie, he began to feel a bit uneasy. The men were out in the middle of the ocean with a shark that was out for a personal vendetta. His eyes widened as the shark began to tear the boat apart, grabbing ahold of one of the men and looking rather pleased while doing so.

He felt the urge to cover his eyes as the shark began to chomp down mercilessly on his body, his screams piercing the now quiet room. He chewed his gum in anticipation, wondering if the man's friends would meet the same fate.

He gave a huge sigh of relief once the shark was dead, making a mental note to himself to never make the Ocean World animals angry at him. Or any animal at all for that matter. In fact, he even made a small oath to himself to never anger another innocent animal again. Especially that devious little monkey, Dexter.

"You lost."

"What?!"

Capone tilted his head downwards, Napoleon following his gaze. His hand was clenched tightly onto the other man's hand. He flushed, words of embarrassment blurting out before he had even a chance to question why his hand was there in the first place. "I cannot lose!" he cried out. "How does this even count."

Capone laughed. "It was during the scene where the last guy got eaten. You started snapping your gum in your mouth so loudly that it was beginning to get a few stares," he laughed again, smirking evilly down at him. "But the icing on the cake was when you grabbed my hand like a horror struck dame."

"You-you cretín!"

"Oooh how original," the gangster stood up the minute the lights flickered on, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair. "I do expect you to pay up when the time is called," he tipped his hat in farewell, grinning rather proudly. "Till then."

Napoleon only watched as he walked away, jaw still open in shock and mortification. "What have I done to deserve this?" he muttered to himself, wishing he could disappear under his hat as some Puritan girls giggled as they walked by him. "I am never going to be able to live this down."

All his soldiers did was look at him with sympathy, giving him their condolences, but inwardly, they were finding the whole situation extremely hilarious.

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><p><strong>Well review please! I do so love reading what you have to say! If you have any suggestions or anything for the next chapters then feel free to ask. You guys who have suggested have really good ideas and I cannot wait to hear even more!<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's note:**__ This one goes out to the Guest who requested this! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm sorry for the lack of length in this one. Please forgive me! I wanted to write one for Valentine's day, but I was out of town for a Scholarship audition and didn't go home directly afterwards. I went to my grandmother's home and she doesn't have internet there. More updates will be coming, so please review and leave suggestions if you have any!_

_**Warnings:**__ None_

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Night at the Museum and never will. I only own minor OCs_

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><p>When Napoleon woke up, he immediately knew something was wrong.<p>

For one, he was a lot shorter than he already was. He seemed to be very close to the ground, the coolness of the marble seemed to radiate onto his skin. For another reason, he didn't feel quite like his normal self. The world around him looked different, as if he were seeing things in a whole knew perspective. And there appeared to be something on his back, and every time he tried to see what it was, it kept disappearing!"

"General!"

"What's happened to him?"

"He…he's…he's a cat!"

"I'm a what?" he exclaimed, only to find that it came out in a high pitched meow. Many of the exhibits had gathered around, curiously examining him and some, much to his chagrin, were cooing at him as if he were some sort of baby.

"Help!" he called out again, only to have the people around him coo at him. He figured he'd meowed again, giving reason as to why they were fawning over him. "Meow!" he called out, though in his mind it sounded like, "Help!"

"Oh this is too good to be true!"

The fur on his back bristled at the sound of a mocking voice. He turned his now yellow eyes to Capone, who was leaning against the wall laughing. "Man Nippy, this is hilarious!" he was now clutching his sides, ignoring the angry meows and glares from the French guard. "Ahk's tablet must be going crazy or something!"

"MEOW!"

"What was that? Sorry, I don't understand cat."

"Don't make fun of our General, Italian!" Armand interjected, Mary instantly appearing at his side and picking his small body up. He wouldn't deny it. The feel of her fingers running through his fur and scratching his forehead felt amazing.

She smiled down at him gently. "I know you won't like it, but you do look adorable," she whispered in his ear. "But I'm sure this won't last long. Ahkmenrah will fix it, I'm sure."

She was right. Ahkmenrah didn't exactly know how this had happened, though he was just as taken by his apparent cuteness as the other exhibits were. What he did know, was that the affects would be gone by tomorrow night. Napoleon only meowed in anguish. What did a poor wax display like him do to deserve such a fate?

"I'll take him from here, Mary."

He meowed in protest as he felt calloused hands take him from Mary's soft arms. Capone lifted him up, trying hard not to laugh. "You do look cute, Nippy."

"MEOW!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You hate being called Nippy."

He sat down at the steps in the front hall of the museum's entrance, watching Rexy with half amusement as Nick played fetch with the large creature. His gray fingers slowly massaged the top of his head, gently scraping the back of his ears. Napoleon closed his eyes, tail twitching as a rumble built up in his throat.

Capone smirked. "So you like being scratched, not petted, huh?"

"Meow."

"I have no idea what you just said."

He subconsciously leaned into Capone's hand, wanting to be scratched even more. He now understood why cats liked it so much. It felt like something his mother would do when he was younger. Well, when the real him was younger, anyway. He would lay his head in her lap and she would hum some Corsican song while she would stroke his head.

"You're not so bad as a cat."

He lifted his head up, eyes squinting at the mobster. Capone only gave a half smirk. "You seem a lot more relaxed this way. Not so tense and uptight," he ignored Napoleon as he dug his claws into his leg, though a small grimace appeared. "You could stand to loosen up a little."

He only growled in response.

"And maybe you could lose that hat of yours as well. It doesn't make you look taller. If anything, it only adds to your shortness.

The only thing that could be heard from the museum in the next ten seconds was the sound of Capone howling in pain as Napoleon scratched in him the face.

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><p><strong>Don't forget to review! I very much appreciate the responses I've received and I cannot be more grateful ^^<strong>


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